by A. J. Downey
“Oh! Yeah, go on into the living room, your dad’s in there – say ‘hi.’”
“Kay.” I jerked a head at Saylor to follow me and she smiled, letting her bulging pack down and holding it in front of her to follow me into the family room off to the right.
“Hey, Dad!” I called and he grunted and put his hands to his knees, getting up and turning.
“Well, hey there, boy! Was wondering when you were gonna finally get here.” He hugged me and pounded me on the back enough to rattle my ribs like a wind chime.
“Yeah, the weather was rough, traffic was rougher,” I said and turned to wave Saylor up. “Dad, I want you to meet Saylor Grace, my girlfriend.”
“Oh, wow! Nice to meet you, Saylor.” He stuck out a hand and she took a step forward with a shy smile and shook it.
I could see she was petrified, and I knew my dad could have that effect on some people. Former Marine, and an ex-cop, my pops had hardass written all over him even when he was trying to be nice, which I could tell, he was.
“Ho, look at what you got here!” he cried as we started unloading Saylor’s carefully wrapped gifts under the Christmas tree. I smiled and waited patiently for her to empty all the smaller ones out of her pack.
My mom always put on an impressive tree each year. Christmas was always her favorite holiday, and when she and Dad downsized into this fancier two-bedroom house after his retirement, one of the best things about it, to her, was the impressive front windows.
The living room had vaulted ceilings, the windows at the front of the house cathedral-like and beautiful. Her Christmas tree towering and green, swathed in white lights, taking up center stage. Saylor’s lips were quirked in a gently pleased smile, the lights reflected in her beautifully mismatched eyes like star scatter. It made her breathtaking in the dimmer light of the living room.
“It’s almost too perfect,” she remarked. “Like a Christmas tree in a shopping mall display. I didn’t think people had trees like this in real life.”
“Yeah,” my dad said. “My Laura’s always been special like that.”
I chuckled. I knew what he meant, that my mom was genuinely special to him. Not special as in the modern connotation. He was so not declaring that my mom rode the short bus, but that was my dad. Simple, down-to-earth and didn’t give a flying fuck about modern language conventions or slang terms.
Saylor’s eyes widened slightly, and I chuckled. I’d have to explain it to her when I got the chance. If, I got the chance. My sister Trish poked her head around the corner and smiled. It was tired and I figured my nephews had been wild.
“Hey! There you are! Where’re Sam and Will?” I asked.
“Their dad has them this year,” she said pained and I shook my head.
“Shit, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, you didn’t know.”
She came over and hugged me and I hugged her back saying, “I got their presents here and I’d like you to meet Saylor.”
Saylor peeked around me and stepped out from between me, my father, and the tree.
“Hello!”
“Hi, it’s very nice to meet you,” Trish said, smiling. She disengaged from my side and sighed.
“Mom’s heating up dinner for you two, come on back to the kitchen,” Trish said.
“Oh, perfect! I’m sorry we’re so late,” I said and I looked over my shoulder at Dad.
“You coming, Pops?” I asked him.
“Hell, no. I already ate. You two go on ahead. I’ll be right here in my chair with my beer and my sports’ highlights until y’all come back and usurp my TV for your damn Christmas movies.”
I laughed and nodded, putting my arm around Saylor and said, “Okay, then. C’mon, babe. You’re probably as hungry as I am.”
“Famished,” Saylor agreed, and we followed my sister back into the kitchen.
My mom and Trish sat with us at the table while we ate, drinking coffee and having their dessert, a slice of mom’s cranberry-almond apple pie.
“So, Jer-bear, how did you and Saylor here meet?” my mother asked, and I traded a look with Saylor who positively looked like the jig was up. I should have taken the look to heart. After all, Saylor had been in this position before – but I literally thought my family was good people. Accepting, Christian in the truest sense of the word. Especially my mom.
I was about to find out that couldn’t be further from the damn truth.
“On a call, actually,” I said and my mom didn’t seem phased at first. The more the story came out, the more worried she looked. Her good nature and kind demeanor didn’t diminish in the slightest, but that was my mother, unfailingly polite. My sister raised her eyebrows and gave me a look that could only be interpreted as ‘I’m so glad I’m not you right now,’ but I brushed it off.
“I think we should follow through with our Christmas Eve tradition,” my sister declared when Saylor and I had finished up eating.
“Leave your plates,” my mother declared. “I’ll clean up in a bit.”
Now that was unlike mother. I smelled an ambush, I just hoped like hell that they didn’t do it in front of Saylor.
We went into the living room and my mom rooted around under the tree handing out boxes.
“Okay, Trish here’s yours. The boys’ are here too, but we’ll just have to get them over to them later.” My mom gave a gusty sigh and I knew she was disappointed the boys weren’t here but that wasn’t Trish’s fault. I shot my sister an apologetic look and she rolled her eyes behind mom’s back when Dad wasn’t looking.
I tried not to crack up and Saylor blushed with good cheer and tried not to snicker herself.
“Okay, here’s yours Jer-bear and here’s yours Saylor.” My mom handed over boxes and Saylor laughed lightly.
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she said and my mom waved her off, handing my dad his box and dragging her own out from under the tree.
“Nonsense,” my mother declared. “It’s a Christmas Eve tradition in this house.”
“We all open one gift on Christmas Eve,” I explained. “Then we watch Christmas movies way too late into the night and sleep in on Christmas morning –”
“As much as the boys usually let us,” my mom interjected and I took a deep and even breath, wishing she would let it go already as my sister sat on the other end of the big sectional setting herself as far away from our parents as she could get while still remaining present. I didn’t miss how my sister closed her eyes and seemed to count to ten and I had to guess Mom had been at it for a while about her grandbabies not being present.
Dad was on the other end, feet up with the built-in recliner, a beer in its cozy in the drop-down arm rest’s cup holder. He grumbled under his breath. “Time to drop it, Laura,” my dad admonished, and my mother looked genuinely affronted by his tone.
“What?” Mom demanded, before waving her hands over the present in her lap and saying, “You know what? Never mind. Everybody’s got their box, it’s time to open!”
The awkwardness hung thick as the sound of tearing paper filled the living room. I wasn’t quite looking at what I had on my lap. I knew what it was, same as it was every year. It was a new set of pajamas picked out by either my mom or my sister, my favorite movie snacks, and a holiday movie – whatever I’d picked that year.
I was more interested in what would come out of Saylor’s box. I’d called ahead and had given my mom the low-down. Had spent several days cultivating what it was that she liked. Her favorite color, her favorite movie snacks, her favorite candy and what she thought was the ultimate Christmas movie.
Her answer had both surprised me and hadn’t at the same time. I guess her grandfather had as much love for 80s and 90s action movies as my own dad. Her favorite holiday movie pick had been a tie between The Nightmare Before Christmas and Die Hard. We’d had a hell of a spirited discussion on if The Nightmare Before Christmas was actually a Christmas movie or if it was more of a Halloween movie and after a lot of tickling, laughter, an
d some deep penetrative, hot sex, she’d finally conceded in my favor that it was a Halloween film.
“Oh, my God, seriously?” Saylor demanded, laughing as she plucked the DVD off the top. She giggled as she held it up for all of us to see and my mom laughed lightly with her, my dad chuckling. “And pajamas, and Red Vines?” She picked up the pajama top, a deep, dark blue, the matching pants beneath them spangled with shiny silver stars.
“Merry Christmas, babe,” I said evenly and just soaked up her joy.
“Thank you all, so much!” she said enthusiastically.
“What’d you get?” my sister asked and I looked down into my box.
“Nice!” I held up Die Hard 2 and my dad said, “Decided to make a theme of it this year,” as he held up The Long Kiss Good Night.
My mom rolled her eyes and held up her movie choice. “Fine, but tomorrow it’s mine and Trish’s choices,” she said as she held up Scrooged. My sister smiled a little sadly and held up The Polar Express, which I knew was her choice because it was her favorite for the boys to watch.
“Nice, Trish,” I said gently and asked, “What kind of pajama’s did you get?”
I held up mine – a red plaid flannel set with a gray thermal top, the neckline, cuffs and hem lined with the said red plaid pattern that dominated the pants.
Trish smiled down into her box, pleased and held up hers, a purple set with snowflakes.
“Niiiiice!” Saylor said smiling and Trish nodded.
“Right, Saylor, the bathroom is just down the hall past the kitchen, first door on the right. Why don’t you go first and try yours on?”
“Thanks,” she said rising. “I will.”
I smiled and gave her hand a gentle squeeze as she went past me to go change. It was suddenly tense and as cold in the living room as it was outside.
I fucking knew it.
As soon as she was out of earshot my dad heaved a big sigh and said, “On a call? You really went there, did you, Son?”
Crap.
18
Saylor…
I set the pajamas on the edge of the sink and ran my fingertips over the warm, soft material. The tags were still on them. They were only fifteen dollars from Walmart, but they were also probably the nicest pajama set I’d owned in the last ten years. Of course, when you were a couch-surfing street kid you pretty much slept in whatever. Pajama sets weren’t really a thing you got to own. At least, not complete sets.
I bent at the waist and swiftly untied and toed off my boots, one after the other. I quickly changed, bundled my clothes neatly and smoothly stepped back out into the hallway to a strained silence.
“I mean, just because she hasn’t got an adult record doesn’t mean she isn’t a criminal, Jeremy. It just means she probably hasn’t been caught yet. I didn’t raise you to do something this stupid!”
I froze at Poe’s father’s harsh tone.
“So you won’t even give her a chance?” Poe asked defiantly.
“Jer-bear,” his mother started gently.
“No, Ma. Him I expect this kind of thing out of, but you?”
I didn’t want to hear anymore. Instead, I slipped back into the bathroom, my heart breaking, and got dressed.
When I slipped back out it was to hear Poe’s father say, “And what is taking her so damn long back there? How do you know she ain’t robbing us blind?” he demanded, and I stepped back into the living room.
“I’m not,” I said and hated how my voice cracked. I cleared my throat. “I was getting dressed again. I’m really sorry that you don’t approve of me and I really don’t want to ruin your Christmas. Um,” I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cash, “this is all I’ve got – it should be more than enough to get back to the city… could someone call a car for me?”
“Babe…” Poe trailed off but he didn’t say ‘no’, he just shook his head and looked so disappointed that my heart broke that much more.
“No, you know what, you’re good. I’m coming with you,” he said.
“Jeremy!” his mother exclaimed.
“What? No!” His dad was equally vehement.
“I can drive you,” his sister said meekly.
“Trisha Anne Poe!” his mother barked.
“Tell us why we should stay?” Poe demanded. “Seriously. Saylor is with me, and she’s had a rough life and background. Tell me how any of what you’ve said about her in the last five minutes is even remotely okay or the Christian thing on Christmas!” Poe was angry now and made a noise of disgust.
“You know what, Dad? You didn’t raise me that way. I’d like to say you guys raised me better.” He set his package of movies and pajamas aside and stood. “You certainly raised me to call bullshit when bullshit was present, and this right here is bullshit!”
His mom covered her mouth and his dad looked pissed.
“I don’t want to ruin you all’s Christmas,” I said gently. “So I’m happy to go –”
“No,” his mom said, plaintively unhappy.
“It’s late,” Poe’s dad agreed. “It’s icy out, and my son…” He looked like he was swallowing something exceedingly bitter when he said, “My son isn’t exactly wrong.”
I scuffed the toe of my boot against the lip of the hardwood half-step leading down into the sunken living room. Twisting it back and forth in an effort to alleviate my high-strung anxiety.
“I know I don’t have the best background, but I promise – I’m not a bad person, I just come from a long series of unfortunate events. My granddad raised me right, I wouldn’t do anything to cross him, especially now that he’s gone.”
I sniffed. I couldn’t help it and Poe’s mom visibly crumbled in apology and his sister in empathy.
Poe came over to me and pulled me into his chest, shielding me from his family’s eyes and murmured into my hair, “I’m so sorry, babe. This wasn’t how I expected our first Christmas to go.”
“It’s okay,” I whimpered, and the lie was bitter ash on my tongue. It wasn’t okay. It was as far from okay as it could get. “I just really wanted everyone to like me, but I get it. Homeless and street kid are hard to get around.”
“Jesus Christ, rub it in why don’t you?” his dad grumbled and I stiffened.
“Dad!” Trish barked sharply.
“Look…” His mom got up. “We’re really sorry –”
“You’re just worried about your son. Yeah, no, I get it, believe me I do,” I said, taking a step back and dashing at the corner of my eye with the heel of my hand.
“So you staying or you going?” his dad grumbled, and I knew he felt like an asshole just from his tone. He wasn’t a bad guy – he was just super rough around the edges. My granddad had been much the same way. The same type of guy cut from the same cloth. No nonsense, no filter, with the best of intentions and the absolute worst way of going about them.
I looked up to Poe for the answer and he sighed. He smiled wanly and traced some of my errant hair behind one of my ears, letting his fingertip run along the outer edge of my ear that sent a pleasant wash of tingles down the side of my neck and across my breast and back. I blushed faintly.
“What do you say, babe? Give this pack of assholes another chance?” he whispered. His dad snorted with humor, his mother wisely didn’t say a word and just took it and I looked past him to his sister who was grinning ear to ear like she’d been gifted Christmas just by virtue of her brother calling their folks out on their bullshit. It was kind of like Christmas magic for me, too. I don’t think anyone since my granddad had ever stood up for me like Poe did just now.
I nodded softly. “Okay,” I murmured.
“Okay,” he whispered back.
I resisted the urge to look past him at his father and ask if he would like me to turn out the rest of my pockets to assure him I hadn’t and wouldn’t steal anything, but I didn’t exactly want to stoke the fire back up.
Poe turned back to me and my bundle of pajamas in my arms and said, “Okay, we’re staying, but I’m going to take
a minute with Saylor in the other room. Trish, toss me my PJs.”
His sister got up swiftly and brought them over to him and he took them. “Thanks.”
“Welcome.”
“Be back in a minute,” he said, and we left them all sitting there as he took me by the arm and led me back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind us both.
I immediately burst into tears, doing everything I could to keep them silent.
“Shit, babe, come on, come here,” he whispered quietly and pulled me into his arms.
He held me tight while I cried my burned and broken feelings out into the front of his shirt, and not once did he try to stop me. He simply held me until the storm had passed.
“I’m so embarrassed,” I confessed.
“Why?” he asked and lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “You have no reason to feel that way. They do. Without a doubt they do, but you? Mm not so much, baby. You are definitely not the asshole here.”
I gave a little broken laugh and sighed. He turned on the tap and pulled a washcloth from one of the drawers, wetting it. He squeezed it out and handed it over. It was cool and inviting against the hot skin around my eyes from crying and I pressed the cloth to my eyes and scrubbed my face with it.
“There you go,” he said, pulling his dark gray thermal Henley over his head, taking the white crewneck tee he had on underneath it with it.
He never disappointed. I almost swallowed my tongue looking at him and he chuckled lightly, reaching for the hem of my sweater and tugging on it.
“No dice, babe. I’m letting my sister take the guest room. We can stay out on the couch.”
“I’m okay with that,” I murmured.
“Figured you would be, beautiful.”
“Your family loves you,” I whispered.
“Doesn’t keep them from being jerks,” he said.
“No, true, but I’m used to it, so don’t take it out on them too hard, okay?” I didn’t want Christmas to be wrecked. I really didn’t. I mean… I didn’t feel like I was honestly worth having it wrecked over. I was just me and even though I was starting to figure out I was special to Poe, I didn’t want to be the kind of special that broke up a family on Christmas.
